A Decidedly Unlikely Alliance
by The White mask
Summary: Sly 2 AU. Sly refuses to leave prison without rescuing Carmelita first, and an alliance on strained terms is struck between a pair of unlikely collaborators. SlyxCarm, naturally.
1. Private Time

b**Chapter 1: Private Time**

Sly had seen an old movie once, where a guy put in solitary confinement kept himself occupied by throwing a baseball against a wall. He glanced around, and noted that he didn't even have room to do that in the little armored shack that severed as one of the many solitary confinement cells in the gothic manor known as "The Contessa's Keep", Interpol's most notorious prison.

Sylvester Cooper, Sly to his friends and simply Cooper to the throngs of policemen he had left eating his dust in his three-year tour of duty as a master thief, scion of the Cooper line, was finally in prison. He was, to his recollection, the first Cooper to be put in such a situation. He had let down his family name, and what was worse, his friends.

And how? He had been tricked. No, tricked wasn't strong enough a word. He had been betrayed, stabbed in the figurative back by a traitorous dog of a tiger. Neyla. He cursed himself for believing her whole "I'm not so black and white" act. Now, there was a woman he never wanted to see, hear from or speak to again. What's worse, he had liked her. Not, perhaps, enough to consider a serious relationship with, but he had _liked_ her.

She had caught him off guard. He had never met a cop who was so willing to talk to a thief. Even Carmelita's banter at the various crime scenes he had encountered her at was done with the motive of getting him to stop moving long enough to get a shot in. But Neyla would smile at him with those blue eyes, and Sly wouldn't know what to think.

His thoughts flew back to the dance they had shared in Rajan's palace a few days before his arrest, back when he had thought that she had been on his side. She had put on such a good show of pretending to help him, getting him into Carmelita's good graces. It was the first time he had ever seen her without her hooded scarf on, and her black hair had been beautiful in the low, soft light of the dance floor. He tangoed with her, enjoying the soft banter between them, and she had smiled, looking like the devil in her red dress. He only now realized how appropriate that statement was.

He should have known. He should have seen through her. Her being there was just too convenient, and her disdain for Carmelita should have tipped him off immediately. I mean, "Old Ironsides?" That was a real giveaway. Well, hindsight was 20-20. Whatever feelings he had for her, whatever plans for that date in Bollywood, whatever hopes he had for a good time with the tigress were ended by two little words: "Sorry, Cooper," she had said as she left him at the wrong end of one of Rajan's energy blasts. Mercifully, he had gone out cold before her betrayal registered, but when he woke up in chains, with Murray and, to his vast surprise, Carmelita locked to him, reality set in.

He had been a fool. And what was worse, he had gotten Murray thrown in jail, too. Murray, his friend, his partner, his brother, who could have chosen any path he wanted to, but chose to follow him. Well, Murray, look where it led you. Straight to jail. He had been caught saving Sly's life, that was the painful part. Saving him from Rajan, that's what Murray was doing. And now the gentle giant was sitting in a cell, probably scared out of his mind. Sly mumbled a curse aloud. It was his fault.

But the worst part of this ordeal hadn't been Murray's capture. It wasn't Neyla's betrayal. It wasn't even his own disgrace. It was that Carmelita got roped in too.

She had been framed, Murray had told him, framed with a picture of them dancing. Suddenly, Sly felt like taking Neyla's throat and crushing it slowly in his bare hands. He wasn't a violent person by any means, but in her case, he was more than willing to make an exception. Not for his sake, not even for Murray's, for Carmelita's.

Sly still found it hard to believe that Neyla succeeded in her ruse. Carmelita was, if nothing else, a good cop. Not only because she was one of the best out there, but because she was completely driven by her job and her (unfortunately very black-and-white) sense of justice. Carmelita, he had noted soon after they first met, was one of the few completely honest cops out there. The idea of her being a dirty cop was laughable. But there she was, in the same place as him, sitting in a cell instead of putting someone deserving in one. And what really made Sly sick to his stomach was that it was all his fault.

Neyla may have used the photo to get her into that mess, but it was Sly who put her in a compromising situation. He had used her, something he never had wanted to do, used her as a distraction. They had danced. God, had they danced. It was a wonderful, romantic tango, and, as Sly thought back to it, hearing the music in his head, one that he hadn't wanted to end. If he had only taken the initiative, let her whirl him around the dance floor for one more song, even one, he would have died a happy man. But no, like a coward, he had had to sneak away, leaving only a rose and a calling card in his wake. But it was enough. Enough for her to probably hate him, and enough for Neyla to snap that damn picture.

Sly closed his eyes at the memory of her face as they were dragged through the Indian jungle, Murray whimpering behind them. He had tried desperately to apologize, to assure her that this was not his intention. He didn't expect the hot-tempered fox to forgive him, why should she? He at the very least expected a curse or two aimed in his direction. But she had, the moment he woke up, the moment he had first spoken her name, she had given him a look that would have stopped the toughest crook in his tracks, and did not say one single word to him until they were dragged into the prison and separated.

He only heard her smooth, Latin-tinted alto once on the entire trek from Rajan's spice temple to the plane that took them to Prague. On the first night after their arrest, after the guards had chained them to a tree and taken their position around the camp and Murray had cried himself to sleep, Sly feigned slumber, knowing that Carmelita would never speak to him. After about an hour, he heard a soft sobbing coming from his right.

Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox, the toughest woman he knew, was sobbing like a child, clutching the tarnished badge she worn around her neck to her heart.

Sly had never in his life felt so low.

For the first time, he felt like a criminal. He had wronged someone who never deserved to be wrong. He had hurt someone. Someone he…someone he cared about.

Sly's mind flew back unbidden to that cold night a year ago when it all came to an end. It wasn't the first time his mind had played such a trick on him; he thought of it more often than he would wish. Clockwerk was gone forever (or so he had thought) and all that remained was to get out of there. So he kissed the cop who was chasing him, distracting her long enough to handcuff her to a rail and get away before she noticed. Or so that was how the half-formed plan in his head had gone. In actuality, he had kissed her, fastened her to the rail, and kept on kissing her for what felt like hours. It may have only been a few seconds, but it was far longer than the simple peck Sly had intended. And it had been _good_. Even surprised like that, Carmelita was a good kisser. He had hoped to find out one day if she was a great one, but now…

A slight pain beginning to develop in his knees brought him back to a tiny cell in a castle in Prague. Sly sighed and shifted his weight. His cane scrapped the roof of the cell. When the guards found they couldn't break his mind, they tried to break his cane, but the metal was too strong to be snapped even by the likes of the Countessa's most brutal enforcers. So they had tied the cane to his back where he couldn't reach it, and then thrown him in solitary. The curved end of the stick was poking into his back, not painfully, but it was irritating him to no end. He was just lucky he was a high-priority prisoner, so the guards couldn't take a chance and beat him up. He was a good fighter, but he never would have had a chance.

Sly knew that the only thing he could do was wait. Bentley was out there somewhere, and he would surely, with all of his brains available, figure out a way to get him and Murray out of jail. Bentley always knew what to do.

_**CRASH!**_

Sly smiled as what sounded like a huge wrecking ball exploded through a wall in front of him, the impact shaking the cell door loose from it's hinges.

Right on cue, Bentley.

**This is my first Sly Fic, one long in planning. Expect an update by Friday. Please click the little blue button below.**

**More coming soon,**

**The White Mask**


	2. Change of Plans

**_Disclaimer: (Which I forgot to add in the first Chapter. Mea Culpa) All characters and Game dialogue belongs to Sucker Punch Productions. I own nothing except my ravishingly good looks._**

**Chapter 2: Change of Plans**

Sly stayed still, waiting for the all-clear he knew was forthcoming. In the meantime, he worked on fraying the ropes holding the cane to his back by rubbing it against the broken door hinge. After a few moments, Sly heard the soft chuk-chuk-chuk sound of an RC helicopter, the whistle as bombs fell, and the panic squawks as of the Contessa's vulture guards as they were knocked unconscious by Bentley's friendly salutations from the sky. Finally, after about thirty seconds of dead silence, the COMlink hidden in Sly's ear buzzed to life for the first time in weeks.

"Sly? Do you read me?" came a familiar nasally voice from the COMlink.

"How I've missed that sensuous voice of yours," Sly grinned as he kicked down the door to his cell and headed outside for the first time in twenty-four hours, stretching his limbs in relief.

"Let's keep the jocular comments for later," replied the voice of Bentley Turtle-Main, technological wizard and tactician extraordinaire, with an audible smile. "Do you see that hook above the train?"

Sly glanced around to see a large train sitting in the middle of what used to be one of the sturdiest walls in Czechoslovakia. So that was the large crash he heard. "Yeah."

"It's your only means of escape. Swing on to the back of the train. I've already established a safe house and downloaded its GPS coordinates into your binocucom. We'll rendezvous there."

Sly didn't hesitate to make another witty comeback, but leapt at the hook, his cane, successfully removed from his back, connecting perfectly and swinging him onto the body of the train. Once over the wall, Sly pulled out his binocucom (which the guards had stupidly let him keep) and checked the location of the yellow holographic marker that signified the location of his little green friend, remarking into his Comlink as he did so, "Wow, you've really thought of everything."

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah, You do," Sly said sincerely as he ran, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, sticking to the shadows as he made his way across to the safe house. "Thanks for busting me out," he continued, without an once of his usual cheek.

"Oh...well," Bentley stammered, unsure how to take genuine praise from his closest friend, "You know the old saying: If you can't count on a friend to bust you out of Jail, what kind of a friend are they?"

Sly dropped in front of the door of the safe house. "Truer words were never said", he replied as he opened the door, "Wizard." Bentley turned with a smile to the Raccoon left breathless by his dash across the rooftops.

"You called me Wizard!" he said in a proud and nearly teary-eyed voice.

"Oh," said Sly with a huge smile, "sorry. Blizzard."

"_Sly_!" The exasperated turtle spluttered, shrugged, and than bolted across the room as fast as his little legs could carry him and gave his best friend a bone-crushing hug Murray would have been proud of.

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A few minutes later, after hugs, thanks, and even some tears had been exchanged; Sly was settled with his feet on the table as Bentley set up his projector for the usual slide show of reconnaissance photos forming his plan. Bentley was in his element, General Patton explaining the battle plan to his troops.

"Okay, here's the situation. I've done some deep database crunching and found out that Murray is doing time in Cell Block "D". Getting him out is going to be tough. As you know, he's not very…light on his feet. First we'll need to get Murray into an isolation cell, away from the other inmates. Second, I'll need you to get a sample of the Contessa's encryption algorithm." Seeing the look of confusion on the code-illiterate Sly, Bentley sighed and continued: "Don't worry, I'll explain later. Third, you'll need to pickpocket a few keys from the Contessa. But watch out for her pack of bodyguards. And fourth, you'll have to deactivate her giant attack robot."

Sly stared at Bentley and the projected an image of an innocent-looking water tower for exactly three seconds before bursting out laughing.

Bentley frowned. "No, really, Sly, I'm serious, the Contessa has a Giant Attack Robot. It just looks like a water tower." He proceeded to draw an angry face on the projected image with a digital pen, the sight of which only made Sly laugh harder. Bentley gave a short sigh of exasperation, and, waiting until the laughing raccoon had run out of giggles concluded his game plan. "Now once you've pulled off all these jobs, we'll be ready to make a play for the big guy."

"Great plan Bentley," said Sly.

"Thank you."

Sly paused, not quite sure how to change the subject to the thought that had been pounding in his head for the last hour. He decided to play it smooth.

"Bentley," he said casually, "What about Inspector Fox?"

Bentley looked up, confused. "What about her?"

"Is she locked up in that mausoleum, too?"

Bentley consulted his laptop, where the prison records had been hacked.

"According to this, she's in solitary confinement. She beat up a few guards. Why?"

Sly knew from the shrewd look in the turtle's small eyes that this wasn't going to be easy. So he just said it.

"We have to get her out of there."

"What?"

"We have to get Inspector Fox out of there."

Bentley just stared at him.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

The watch on Bentley's wrist ticked an audible three seconds before the frazzled genius finally blinked and said "and why should we risk our butts doing such a strange and frankly idiotic thing?"

Sly rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Bentley. She's helped us out before."

"She's also been trying to get you in jail for three years."

"Ok, yes, she has. But we still have to get her out of that prison."

"I re-iterate. Why?"

"I just said why, Bentley. Besides, would this job really be as fun without Carmelita on our tail?"

"Maybe for you, but I would probably have about ten less ulcers a day."

"Bentley!"

"Sly!"

"Bentley!" Sly sighed, this was getting him nowhere. He'd try tactic #2. Logic.

"Look, Carmelita may be annoying, but that doesn't mean she deserves to be in jail. You know that and I know that. And Carmelita's helped us out before. Remember Russia?"

Bentley looked at him for a long moment, and then, very calmly, spoke.

"Carmelita, Sly? Since when where you on first name terms with Inspector Fox?"

Sly was taken aback. "Well, I-"

"Oh my god." Bentley dropped his head in his hands. "You have a thing for her."

"_WHAT?_ That's…that's ridiculous!"

"You know, grey fur doesn't do much to hide a blush, Cooper," Bentley teased. "You have a _thing _for her, Don't you?"

Sly glared at his childhood friend.

"I absolutely do not have a thing for Carmeli-for Inspector Fox."

"Suuuurre you don't."

"Bentley! Stop trying to change the subject! We're getting her out of there."

All joking aside, Bentley turned to him. "Sly, I'm not going to endanger this whole operation so you can get the girl of your dreams out of jail."

"Bentley-!"

Bentley cut him off, firmly. "We have to save Murray."

"I know"

"We can't waste any time. They're probably upping security as we speak thanks to that little train stunt I pulled. We don't have time to pull off two jobs when we're down a man. "

Sly sighed. _Ah, screw it_, he thought, looked the turtle straight in the eye, and told the truth.

"Bentley, we can't just leave her there."

"Again, why?"

"Because it wouldn't be right. Because I owe it too her."

Bentley looked confused. "You…owe it to her."

"Do you know why she got arrested?"

"Yeah. I heard the whole thing"

"She was arrested because of _me_. I was using her as a distraction, and it got her arrested. It's my fault she's in there, and I'll be damned if I'm going to walk away scot free while she's left to rot. I have to get her out of there. And I need your help to do it. And you know that if Murray was here, he'd say the same thing."

Bentley looked at Sly. He was unnaturally serious. He looked at his shoes, then sighed.

"I hate it when you get moralistic."

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**COMING SOON, IN CHAPTER THREE: **

**Bentley gets in touch with his inner master-of-disguise, Sly gets in touch with his inner negotiator, and Carmelita gets in touch with her inner lawbreaker.**

**Portions of the Dialogue, namely Sly and Bentley's exchange over the COMlink and Bentley's "Game Plan" were taken directly from the SLY 2 Game script. Which is why they work so much better than anything written by me. **

**Oh, and please forgive Bentley's really Crappy last name. It was the best I could come up with.**

**Please review. You will be given bagels if you review.  
**

**More soon,**

**The White Mask.**


	3. A Very Unpleasent Evening

**Disclaimer: The Sly Cooper characters, locations and names belong to Sucker Punch. M&Ms belong to the lucky stiff who owns them. I own very little in worldly goods, but my soul is my own. Oh, and I also own Sergeant Burliknov.**

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, especially those who reviewed twice. Bagels will be forthcoming.**

**First a note: The preview I provided for this chapter turned out, in the process of writing, to be misleading. What I had planned for this chapter turned out to be too much, so I've postponed that until Chapter 4. Or maybe Chapter 5. Or 6. We'll just have to see. So, here's a replacement prievew for Chapter 3:**

**Chapter Three: Bentley reflects on Sly, Sly reflects on Carmelita, and a minor character reflects on Tolstoy (but not for very long).**

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**Chapter 3: A Very Unpleasant Evening**

To his credit, Bentley had not grumbled about the sudden change of plans he was forced to make to accommodate Carmelita's release, but simply sat down and worked for a good hour while Sly took care of the various jobs needed to secure Murray's escape, including the destruction of the Giant Attack Robot, which, Bentley was none too soon to point out, proved to be just that.

The tired raccoon roused himself with a cup of coffee while he listened to Bentley's next plan.

"Okay, Sly," started the turtle, "This one's kind of set up on short notice, so we'll work out the kinks as we go along. First, we'll need to retrieve Carmelita's shock pistol from the Prison's personal effects locker. It's located here, at the top of this tower, so get ready for a tough climbing job."

"The ones I like the best, Bent."

"Please hold all questions until after the presentations, Mr. Cooper. You'll also have to bypass the security code by taking a key off one of the guards. Second, I'll get access to Carmelita by disguising myself as her Lawyer. I've been preparing for this one for a while: I've been reading up on criminal law, just in case I ever needed to defend myself in court. You should take a look, it's a fascinating read. And I already have my Interpol ID and a briefcase. While I do that, you'll slip past the guards to her cell and plant her Shock pistol for her convenience. During our conversation, which I'm sure will be closely monitored, I'll slip her a COMlink in the papers I'll have her sign. That's the easy part. The hard part is going to be convincing Carmelita to cooperating with criminals. Namely, Us."

"You leave that to me, Bentley. I'll figure out something."

"Oh," said Bentley, putting on his best suit for his lawyer disguise, "I'm sure you will. Loverboy."

"_BENTLEY!" _

With that and a well-timed sigh of frustration, Sly Cooper took off to complete his first job, leaving Bentley to apply his disguise.

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Bentley sighed as he added a fake beard to his look, then tossed it aside in favor of a bristly mustache. The gang didn't use disguises that often; unlike his elegant ancestor Thaddius Winslow Cooper III, the author of the section of the _Thievius Raccoonus_ pertaining to the art of disguise, Sly preferred stealth to playing the more dangerous game of duel personalities, and, quite frankly, was a terrible actor. But the gang still traveled with a few ready disguises on hand in case they had to make a quick escape. A combination, Bentley thought, of "rumpled professor", "keen-eyed businessman" and "jaded reporter" would do nicely for this job.

As he applied his mustache with some spirit gum, his stomach jumped. Another ulcer. He had been getting them for several years now. Not coincidentally, they started around the time the Cooper Gang had gone into business. As he popped antacids like M&Ms, Bentley wondered, and not for the first time, why he followed Sly around the world, planning illegal operations, instead of taking that nice, pressure-free job of designing the newest shuttles for NASA.

The answer, as usual, came to him quickly: Sly was his friend. Sly had been there for Bentley since the day they met, when he prevented a playground bully from stepping on the turtle's glasses. Bentley was born and raised inside the walls of the Happy Camper's orphanage, having been dropped off by his parents as an egg. Most of the children did not remember their mothers or fathers, or if they did, like Murray, it was only through a few dim memories. When Sly first appeared on the scene one cold March day, he was a rare breed: a kid who knew his parents, knew the world beyond the orphanage walls and the Saturday morning movies the kids were taken to if they were good. Sly seemed like the world's coolest adventurer to the young turtle, coming complete with a sordid family history, and Bentley had seemed like a genius to the young raccoon. Luckily for their friendship, both impressions turned out to be true.

Sly had also cemented the friendship between Bentley and Murray; the pair might have shared a home, but they hardly knew each other. That all changed with the intervention of an eight-year-old raccoon. If nothing else, Bentley was grateful for that. So when Sly asked the pair if they would help him get back his inheritance, the mystical book of his ancestors, Bentley hadn't hesitated, but packed his second-hand laptop and never looked back. And, as much as he hated to admit it, the ride had been fun.

So here Bentley was, Twenty-two years old, sitting in a dingy room in Prague, fighting an ulcer while putting on old-age make-up so he could commit yet another felony, impersonating an officer of the law this time, to bust a woman he didn't even like out of prison.

If turtles had hair, Bentley would have been ripping out every last follicle. He had a feeling that this was going to be a very unpleasant evening.

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It was beginning to drizzle as Sly made his way to the top of the large tower housing the personal effects locker, fuming at Bentley's allegations. He really didn't have a _thing_ for Carmelita, did he? The idea was ridiculous. There was no way in hell his feelings for Carmelita went beyond attraction and willingness for flirtation. Just because you flirt with someone doesn't mean you have a thing for them, does it? Just because you think that they're attractive, that doesn't mean you're in love with them, right? Just because you dream at night about their sweet, kissable lips and soft brown eyes and beautiful black hair and silky red fur, that doesn't mean…

Aw, Crap.

Sly tried desperately to take his mind off of Carmelita's kissable lips and onto the cold, clammy drainpipe he was currently climbing up. It was not a successful attempt. He sighed and, as he vaulted to a window ledge and snuck along to the other side of the tower, tried to come to grips with his feelings. So what if he did have a _thing_ for Carmelita? What if he did have feelings for her? That would only re-enforce the need of getting her out of there, for one thing. But was he letting his feelings cloud his judgment? Sly let himself stop and think for a moment as he perched on a gargoyle. No, he realized, he wasn't. Even if he detested Carmelita, he knew he owed her too much to let her languish in jail, possibly ending up at the wrong end of one of the Contessa's hypnosis "treatments", or worse.

Besides, he glumly thought as he neared the window that was his entry point to the effects locker, whatever feelings he had for Carmelita were pointless. It was obvious that the woman couldn't stand him. He had never given her any reason to like him, he thought miserably. Why shouldn't she hate his guts? For god's sake, he had gotten her thrown in jail! If she hadn't hated him before, she surely did now.

And if that didn't make his night worse, the realization that the window was stuck currently did.

He had a feeling this was going to be a very unpleasant evening.

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Sergeant Jaroslav Burliknov took his post with a shake of his wings and the occasional curse muttered in Czech. As if his job wasn't bad enough, he was stuck with what was generally regarded as one of the worst jobs in the prison, just above cleaning the prison latrine right after prisoner #24601, Monte "Beans" Ragotski, had been in there: guarding the effects locker in the old, drafty tower. It wasn't enough that he had two screaming brats and an egg to support on minimum wage, or that his wife Tenuka was having an affair with the village cheesemaker right under his beak, but he was also stuck with locker duty. Ah well, he could use the time to get another chapter into _Anna Karenina_. That is, if his copy hadn't been ruined by the rain.

Deep in thought, Burliknov never noticed the shape slipping silently through the window, the hand opening the pouch around his leg and removing a key-card, or the figure winding up to strike with the curved stick Burliknov never saw coming.

"Yes," Burliknov thought just before the cane made contact with his cranium, "I have a feeling that this is going to a very unpleasant evening."

He was right.

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**I'm sorry this is so short, but I felt like I couldn't make it longer without risking rambling. Sorry**

**Coming soon, in Chapter Four: ****Carmelita rages in a cage, Bentley goes undercover, and Sly gets sly.**

**Just a note here: according to the Sly Cooper website, Sly, Bentley and Murray are only eighteen in Sly One, 20 in Sly Two, and 21 in Sly Three . While I try to stick to cannon as closely as possible, I've decided that this is a little young for a trio of master thieves, and way to young for the level of maturity Sly and Bentley seem to have (Murray I'm not so sure about), so I'm upping the character's ages by two years. May Sucker Punch have mercy on my soul.**

**Oh, and did anybody catch the _Les Miserables _reference?**

**Review, and be rewarded with Lox for your bagels!**

**More coming soon,**

**The White Mask**


	4. Private Time: Mark II

**Disclaimer: I own Nossing! Nosssing!**

**A big thank you to the 18 people who have reviewed the last three chapters. **

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**Chapter Four: Private Time, Mark II**

Carmelita Montoya Fox, Inspector of Interpol 1st Class, tossed and turned on the tiny, uncomfortable cot she was allowed in her isolation cell. She had been foolish, going off on that guard like that, but the wolf had not only tried to get fresh, but also had dragged her through ten miles of Indian Jungle. And he had confiscated her shock pistol. If that wasn't a case for justifiable homicide, she didn't know what was.

Carmelita sighed again, fitfully trying to get some sleep and face the next twenty-four hours, which she knew were going to be difficult. She also tried to face the fact that she was in prison, that this was not some nightmare she was just going to wake out of. She, a fourth generation cop, a woman who had given her entire life to the service of others, had never once from the time she was six years old considered a career other than one in law enforcement, was in prison. Jail. The hooscow. The Big House. The Clink. The Icebox. Up the river. Inside. In Captivity. And countless other names she could not remember.

She was humiliated. Stripped of her badge and gun, taken prisoner by the very organization she had pledged life-long allegiance to, that her parents, both of her grandfathers, and all four her great-grandfathers had served and the one three of her brothers and her sister were serving under now. And she was in jail.

She imagined what her family in Madrid would think. Her father, had he been alive, would have probably died of shame. Her mother, however, was alive and in good health, and Carmelita didn't know what the news would do to the poor woman She had used her one phone call to get a message to Lt. Barkley, her superior, and asked him to break the news gently.

Framed. That was the worst of it. Framed by an obviously corrupt officer. Damn that Constable Neyla. That cockney creep had had it in for her since day one. Carmelita hadn't liked the English Tiger from the first time she laid eyes on her; even her accent was grating to the fox's ears. But for all her dislike of Neyla, she had never suspected her of being dirty. And at the moment, Carmelita felt like setting her shock pistol to it's rarely used "barbecue" setting and turning it on Neyla full blast.

Twice.

Carmelita shook her head and smiled ruefully. Neyla had been smart. She had caught enough of the conversation between Cooper and his big pink friend to get that Neyla was playing both sides. So that was her game. She had played it well, performing a double checkmate at the last minute that Machiavelli would have been proud of: letting Cooper and his gang get rid of Rajan, and then taking out the thief and the rival cop in one fell swoop. The Contessa was obviously in on the whole thing; no clean cop in her right mind would have made an arrest on such flimsy evidence as that photo.

With the thought of the photograph so integral to her capture came thoughts of Sly Cooper and the dance they had shared while incognito in India. Not for the first time, Carmelita spent a good three minutes mentally tearing the raccoon a new orifice in an uncomfortable place for the trick he had played on her. That was a low-down thing to do, take a girl around a dance floor, get her into a tizzy so she couldn't think straight, and then taking off, leaving her with egg on her face and a rose in her hair, not to mention two missing Clockwerk wings.

Carmelita sat up, rubbing her head, hoping that it would help her mind would get off a certain blue-hatted thief and onto the more appropriate subject of sleep. No dice. Cooper's grinning visage loomed up at her from the deep wells of her mind, making her feel like slamming her head into the re-enforced steel that made up the cell wall.

Sly Cooper, Carmelita had realized soon after she met him, was one of the few people who could throw her life into complete disarray. The Raccoon knew it, too. That was what made him so insufferable. Why else would he taunt her at each scene, only to escape from her range at the last minute? Why else would he constantly flirt with her? Why else would he have used her like he did in India?

Her thoughts, unwilling to cooperate, chose to take her to that night in Rajan's Palace as she lay down again and closed her eyelids firmly. She had first seen him while danced with Neyla, using the Tigress to get to Carmelita while Neyla was using him to get to whatever she wanted. He had looked like a different person out of his blue thief attire, a masked stranger straight out of an old romance movie. She hadn't even recognized him, not even after countless meetings on roof-tops and back-alleys the world over. No, that wasn't really true, a little voice in the back of her head said with a sadistic smile, she had recognized him, at least half-recognized him. He looked so familiar, but so different, so like the Raccoon that featured in her dreams, sharing a bottle of champagne, going to the symphony, taking a romantic drive up the French Rivera, going on one knee in a fancy restaurant…

Carmelita's eyes flew open and she sat up as if from a nightmare. Damn him. Damn that stupid raccoon and his little games. They were beginning to get to her. _He _was beginning to get to her.

She knew where her thoughts were heading, and she wasn't happy about it. Russia. She tried desperately to stop her mind, but her conscious slipped out her hands and it came to her: The top of a volcano, the chill in the air, the smell of sulfur, the feel of the snow under her boots. Ten terse seconds. A kiss. Carmelita hadn't had much experience; most boys in high school were a little intimidated by her father, and she hadn't gone on many dates in collage and next to none afterwards. But even to an amateur, she could tell that Sly Cooper had given her one hell of a kiss. She had even begun to reciprocate before he slipped away, leaving her handcuffed to a rail. She had spent three hours chained to that rail, alone with her thoughts and embarrassed, before her radioed SOS was answered.

He had really pushed her too far that time, and he had done it again. If she ever saw him again, she wouldn't just throw him in jail. She would send 3000 volts of blue shock pistol ammo coursing through his circulatory system, beat him into a bloody pulp, shave his tail with a rusty blade, take embarrassing photos to be posted online later and _then_ throw him in jail. Her only satisfaction was that he _was_ in jail. But, then again, so was she. And she had to get out of there.

Carmelita knew that Prison wasn't supposed to be pleasant, and she could not be said to be squeamish, but what she had seen of this prison disturbed her: Guards beating a small rat, a guard taking a bribe from what looked like a prominent prisoner, and, worst of all, a tough-looking wolf being dragged kicking and screaming into the Contessa's office and coming out an hour later looking placid and blank. She shivered involuntarily. She knew of the Contessa's rehabilitation program, but seeing its effects was something else, something bordering on just plain wrong. It was giving her serious second thoughts about the organization that sponsored it.

Barkley had told her that he believed in her innocence, and he would do his best to get her out of there, but he didn't know how long it would take to get a lawyer to Prague, let alone get her out of jail. He had told her not to do anything foolish. She glanced around the isolation cell. She had certainly disregarded that advice. She would just have to wait, and if Barkley let her down, she would get out of there, go on the run, and find a way to clear her name.

Carmelita barely had time to think about how she would accomplish that impossible feat when her cell door slammed open, and she was pulled up roughly by a pair of guards

"Vy! Ale jděte, tebe mít jeden Host," Barked out one of them. "Chybit Hnědě potřísnit." Seeing her uncomprehending look, he added in painstakingly slow English "_Law-yer."_

Carmelita's heart leapt even as she was manhandled out of the cell by the guards, cuffed and frog marched through the heavily-guarded courtyard and into one of the prison's cleaner investigation rooms. Barkley had come though, and passed with flying colors. It took him less than Twenty-Four hours. Plans of naming her first child after the Lt. surfaced briefly, but then she realized she would never be able to call her child "Mervin". So Barkley would have to settle for a dinner date at her expense.

In her euphoria, Carmelita never noticed the shadowy figure slipping into the open cell behind her, then slipping out one shock pistol lighter.

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**In the Next chapter: Bentley deserves an Oscar and Carmelita gets a surprise.**

**Chapter Five has already been started, so expect an update before too long, probably in the next three days. Unfortunately, with the wonderful state of bliss called "Summer" over, Reality beckons and Updates will become more sporadic after chapter five, but I will do my best to get at least one chapter up every week. **

**By the way, what the guard is saying is roughly translatable to "You! Come with me now, Fox. You have a visitor." I used an online translator, so if anybody speaks Czech, feel free to correct me. **

**It's late and I don't want to beg for reviews, but I am willing to resort to bribary. So Review and be rewarded with bagels. But wait, now they have poppyseed!**

**More soon, **

**The White Mask **


	5. Interview with the Inspector

**Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me except for Captain Maraczek, and it could be argued that he's actually in the game, we just don't know his name.**

**Chapter Five: Interview with the Inspector**

Bentley was sweating under his disguise as he was led down the hallway to the interrogation room by a large wolf who had been introduced to him as Captain Maraczek. The little turtle nearly had to run to keep up with the much larger wolf, who spoke to him in heavily-Accented but surprisingly good English.

"You have chosen a very inopportune moment to come to the Contessa's Keep, Mr.- Shellac, was it?"

"Shellnic," replied Bentley. "Barnaby Snellnic. And no time is inopportune when it concerns an Interpol officer accused of such a serious crime."

"While I hold respect for your mission, Mr. Shellnic, the truth of the matter is that Inspector Fox has not been a model prisoner, so my men do not relish the proposal of rousing her from her cell. She has already put one of my best wolves in the hospital ward. Besides, it is past our usual visiting hours."

No mention of Sly's escape, he noticed. Either he didn't know or he was covering up. "I am more than aware of how late it is, Captain, but my orders from my superiors in Paris were to fly in and interview Miss Fox as soon as possible and return with my evaluation of the case," he said coolly. "Given Miss Fox's prominent position in the Interpol community and the gravity of the crime which she is accused, I felt it necessary to take measures above and beyond the usual procedure. I trust you do not object to putting my superior's wishes against our own well-needed beauty sleep?"

"Not at all," said the Captain grudgingly, not missing the implied insult. "We all have superiors to answer to, but how am I going to explain this to the Contessa?"

"That, sir," replied Bentley, giving the hulking beast his best staredown, "is your business. Not mine."

The Captain, with the precise, controlled anger of one who had been biting his tongue in front of his superiors for years, merely nodded and let Bentley into the interrogation room.

"Wait here. You will have forty minutes." he replied, before closing the door.

It was small and dimly lit, able to pass as a perfectly normal interview room, but Bentley's keen eyes noticed a few stains, no doubt from frequently intense "interrogations" that had not yet been washed out completely.

Bentley took a seat. According to the blueprints he had studied, the security camera present did not have sound, but the room was bugged for observation. He would have to be careful. A wrong word could mean disclosure.

Bentley hadn't long to wait before Carmelita Fox was led in by two huge guards, and plopped down into the seat across from him. It was the first time he had seen her up close apart from photographs, let alone come face to face with her. He left that to Sly.

Bentley noticed that the past week, featuring a combination of trekking through the hot, dirty Indian jungle and sitting a cold, dirty cell, had not been kind to Miss Fox. Her hair was matted and streaked with mud and sweat, and her jacket had seen better days. She also looked like she hadn't slept in several days. In short, she looked like hell.

After the guards fastened her leg to the chair and left the two alone, Bentley began the most frightening task he had ever faced: convincing Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox he was a cop. And the visions of painful blue shock pistol blasts heading for his head dancing around in his subconscious.

Thus, with every lawbreaker's instinct he had screaming out something along the lines of "_Are you nuts? Get the hell out of there, you idiot!"_ Bentley reached out to shake Inspector Fox's hand. He just hoped his moustache would stay on.

"Inspector Fox, I'm Barnaby Shellnic, I'm with Interpol's Legal department. I'm here in capacity as your attorney." the diminutive turtle said, shaking Carmelita's hand. Carmelita shook it firmly, as if it were her last lifeline on a sinking dingy.

"Carmelita Montoya Fox. Did Barkley Send you?"

Barkley…Barkley...Bentley fumbled for the name. He could tell from Carmelita's tone that Barkley was someone on her side, and for the sake of his pretense, it would be better to pretend to be someone she could trust.

"Not officially," Bentley replied with a wink as he opened his briefcase. "Officially, I'm here to take your statements with regard to your arrest and prepare a defense for trial."

"And unofficially?" asked the fox.

"We'll save that for later. Let's begin"

For the next thirty minutes, Carmelita gave her testimony. How she had been tricked into a dance by Sly Cooper, and how she had been used as a distraction, and how her "esteemed" partner Constable Neyla had taken the opportunity to frame her for a crime she had not committed. All quite simple really. Bentley finished his fake shorthand transcription and put away his notepad.

"All that seems to be in order," said Bentley. "Since we can't prove malicious intent on Miss Neyla's actions, we'll have to play this as an honest mistake."

"No Proof?" yelled Carmelita. "She was working with the Cooper Gang!"

"Yes, but we only have Sly Cooper's word for it."

"So get him to testify! He's in the prison too. Go take his statement, the louse!"

"Well…," began Bentley, "It's not that simple. For one thing, we'd have to cut a deal and for another thing," he hesitated, and decided to test the waters. "He's not exactly here anymore."

Carmelita looked confused, then the light seemed to dawn as she groaned and put her head in her paws.

"Don't tell me…"

"He escaped about three hours ago. They're conducting a manhunt…well…raccoonhunt as we speak."

"Oh, for the love of… that ring-tailed _ejo de…_ If I ever see that _bastado _again, I'll…" Carmelita launched into a nearly silent stream of mumbled Spanish curses that would have made even the likes of the foulest-mouthed goons turn pale. Bentley, even with only three years of high school Spanish under his belt, blanched and turned beet red. Carmelita calmed down after a good thirty seconds of mentally eviscerating the raccoon before turning to her lawyer.

"I think I need to go lie down. Is there anything else?"

"Yes," said Bentley, fishing out some select papers from his briefcase. "I need you to sign these."

Carmelita began going over the papers. Suddenly, she stopped, for taped to the back of one of the more convoluted legal documents was a small COMMlink, accompanied by a handwritten message:

_Act Natural. Put this in your ear. I'll contact you in half an hour. _

The Message was unsigned. Carmelita looked wide-eyed at Bentley.

"Unofficially," he said with a wink, "Someone wants you out. Badly."

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As soon as he was outside the prison gates a familiar voice came into Bentley's COMMlink.

"So, how did it go, Mr. Shellsheer?"

"_Shellnic,_ Sly. It went well. Kind of"

"Kind of?"

"I got her the COMMlink, she's expecting the call. But she doesn't know you sent it."

"It'll be a surprise. Good work, Mr. attorney."

"_Sly." _

Sly chuckled. "I know you're not going to deny me the chance to use my Perry Mason jokes."

"I most certainly am. You don't even_ watch _Perry Mason!"

"Besides the point."

"Anyway, you have bigger problems to worry about?"

"What, another killer robot disguised as a portable radio?"

"_No._ Your _little girlfriend absolutely hates you."_

Sly sighed.

"First of all, she's not my girlfriend. Second of all, I'm not surprised, I'm the reason she's in there after all. What did she say"

"I refuse to repeat it."

"That bad"

"Yes."

"In Spanish?"

"Naturally."

"She must have been _pissed at me."_

"She was."

"That's great. Just makes my job harder."

Bentley began to get a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"And what job is that?"

"Convincing her to join the Cooper Gang."

"Oh. That Job."

A three second pause.

"**WHAT?"**

"Oops," said Sly, "It's been a half-an-hour. I'm on!"

"Sly, wait!"

"Slyvester Cooper you just wait a goddamn min-"

Click. The Turtle's high-pitched vocals were cut off only to be replaced by a accent-tinged alto as she felt her new COMMlink come to life.

"Hello? Hello? Barkley? Is that you?"

"Close, but no cigar. I don't smoke, bad for my lungs."

If the walls of Caremlita's Cell weren't soundproof, they would have shaken with her cry:

"_**COOPER!"**_

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**Next time on UNLIKEY: Sly has an intriguing conversation, Carmelita makes a deal.**

**The next chapter will hopefully be up soon, but no promises. I'm sorry this took so long to update, but…meh. **

**Review and be gifted with Bagels…with CREAM CHEESE!**

**More soon,**

**The White Mask**


	6. The Art of Negotiation

**Disclaimer: Again, I own zip**

**Okay, I'm sorry the last chapter took so long to update…among other factors, I must have rewritten the scene between Carmelita and Bentley at least four times. I'm still not satisfied with it, but it was the best I could do. And with the real world intruding into my life, I'll be settling into a period of once-a-week updates every Monday or Tuesday. Enjoy.**

**Chapter Six: The Art of Negotiation**

If you were in prison with a wireless radio stuck in your ear, the last voice you would expect or want to hear coming from that radio is the person who got you, even unintentionally, thrown in said jail. Especially if that person, in the words of Carmelita when we last left her, is:

"_**COOPER!"**_

"Keep your voice down, Inspector Fox, as lovely as it is." Sly replied calmly, expecting the outburst. "Trust me, beautiful, you do not want to be discovered with a COMMlink in your ear."

Carmelita, fuming, complied, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "You have got a _lot_ of nerve, Raccoon!"

"I'm well aware of that fact, Miss Fox."

"Why, you little son of a…"

"Please, my dear. I'm very sensitive to foul language."

"Oh, I'm not even started yet, Ringtail! What the hell do you think you're doing, Cooper? I'm guessing that Lawyer was one of your little friends."

"You would be correct. Sorry we had to pull that, but we need to talk, and it was the only way to get the COMMlink to you."

"Always practical, Cooper, always with an excuse."

"I try to amuse."

"If that's what you're trying to do, you are, bar none, the most miserable failure I've ever seen."

"Ouch. Oh, Carmelita, You've broken my heart yet again."

"That's not all I'll break if I ever see you again."

"Nice to know, Inspector Fox, because I have a small proposition for you."

"And why should I listen to you?"

"You'll want to."

"I doubt that very much."

"What if I told you I could get you out of jail?"

"I'd tell you to have your head examined."

"Oh, ye of little faith. I got myself out didn't I?"

"I'm a high security prisoner, Cooper! If you think you can break me out of _this_ cell," said Carmelita, "You're sadly mistaken. Nobody could move around freely in this place. Not even you.

"Look under your bed."

"What?"

"Look. Under. Your. Bed."

Carmelita, more curious than anything, complied, and found a curiously wrapped package.

"I know your birthdays not till June, but I figured such an early gift wouldn't be a _faux pau_ under these circumstances."

Carmelita ripped off the paper to find two items: a large black bag and, to her immense surprise, her shock pistol and holster.

Sly, hearing the stunned silence coming from the Inspector's end of the radio, smiled. "Still skeptical?"

Carmelita silently picked up her pistol, feeling the familiar grooves along the hilt, running her fingers along the nicks and bumps in the metal that accompany years of faithful service in a weapon. She had had her shock pistol for five years, and it had almost felt like she had lost a hand when it was confiscated from her.

"If I can get that pistol into your cell, I can get you out of it," the smooth voice in her ear stated.

Sly waited with baited breath for her response.

"Okay Cooper", she said coolly after a long silence. "You've proved you _could_ get me out. What's to prove I'll let you?"

"What, you want to stay in prison?"

"Oh, no," Carmelita said, "I want out. But I'm sure as hell not going to accept help from a two-bit thief."

"Harsh words from such a pretty mouth."

"_Don't test me, Cooper."_

"You know, you've never once called me Sly. After Three years, you'd think we'd be on a first-name basis."

"Alright, _Sly," _Carmelita replied, spitting out the name with enough venom to make a snake jealous, "Give me one good reason that I shouldn't wait for my friends at Interpol to get me out of here the legal way."

"I have two good reasons, among several others," Sly answered. "Firstly, because your friends at Interpol are probably tied up in red tape and you'll be waiting for them long enough to reach retirement age. And Second…"

"And Second."

" Second, because I'm willing to cut a deal."

Carmelita raised an eyebrow, waiting to say his piece.

"I know you have unfinished business with Constable Neyla, Inspector Fox."

"I do."

"I do too. She's after the Clockwerk parts; I don't know why, but she's after them. And I want those parts destroyed. I already have three of them, but I need to get all of them and then find some way to get rid of them. And I could use your help. So I propose a temporary partnership. You help me get rid of the Clockwerk parts, I help you get rid of Neyla. And I get you out of jail before the Countessa decides to make you her newest test subject."

Carmelita didn't waste a second of telling him what she thought. "Team up with you! Are you nuts? Why should I let you help me, I can take her on my own. And I can get out on my own. "

"How about this, then…"

Sly took an audible breath. He had hoped not to have to play this card, but the number one goal was getting her out.

"After we settle our score with Neyla, I'll let you take me in."

Carmelita did not say a word.

"When this whole thing is done, you can drag me into to Police headquarters in Paris. Cuffs, gag, striped pajamas, the whole nine yards. But we need your help. And I don't want to see you become another mindless Countessa zombie. So do we have a deal."

There was one long agonizing moment of silence while he waited for her answer. When it came, it came in one word.

"Deal."

Sly let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Deal. I'll contact you in an hour with the plan."

"I'm going to hold you to your word, Cooper. Don't think you can weasel your way out of this one."

"I know. I wouldn't expect any less from you, _mon cher _Inspector."

Carmelita blinked. Had he really just said that?

"In an hour, then," he said.

"An hour."

They signed off. One sprang up and ran from the rooftop he had been talking from and ran to his safehouse. The other sat in her cell, counting sixty minutes with anticipation and dread. Each left alone with his or her own thoughts.

Said thoughts generally ran along the following line:

_What the Hell have I gotten myself into?_

**Next time, on UNLIKELY: Carmelita learns a new way to pick a lock, Sly learns how to spring two people at the same time, Murray learns how _ not _to carry a police inspector, and Bentley learns not to forget his antacids.**

**Bagels are forthcoming to reviewers. They get stale when sent through the mail, so I'm thinking of electronic messaging. Hey, if Willy Wonka could do it…**

**More Soon,**

**The White Mask**


	7. Blitz Out

**I own nothing, including parts of the dialogue taken from _Sly 2: Band of Thieves_.**

**Um….**

**Yikes.**

**Happy New Year.**

**I am so, so, so, sorry this took so long, but the demands of the real world are paramount, and I had to rewrite several times. Even so, it's shorter than usual. I'm sorry, and I'll try to get back on schedule soon. I'm not dead or anything, just to let you all know. **

**------------------------**

**Chapter Seven: Blitz-out**

Sly had seen an old movie, it might have been the same one as the one where the guy tossed the baseball against the wall, where a bunch of POWs escaped from a WWII camp in what they called "a Blitz-out." From what he recalled, the blitz-out was a complicated jailbreak where each man played his part.

Well, if what he and Bentley were planning was not a Blitz-out, Sly thought, then nothing was. For what else but a blitz out would find a master thief crawling under a tank hotwired by a technological mastermind, careful not to whack his head on the undercarriage or get too close to the treds. What else but a blitz-out would require breaking _into_ a prison only to break back out? What else but a blitz-out would see both Criminal and Cop working together to get two innocent people out of jail?

Besides, calling it a Blitz-out is _much_ cooler than calling it a jailbreak.

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Murray Pinkelton's mind was in a fog. He had no idea where he was, how long he'd been there, or why he was itching all over. Whoever had done….whatever they had done to him had really done a good job. He didn't want to move, the walls were closing in on him. He felt angry. Not like "Somebody ate the last nacho" angry but _angry_ angry, the kind of angry that made him want to smash stuff. Whoever did this to him would pay. Pay with a lot of pain.

Suddenly, a soft humming intruded into his addled consciousness. It was a high-pitched sound, and it made his ears hurt, which only made him angrier.

"What's that sound…Angry …Get…Gone!"

The Humming only increased. Murray began to shake with the rage he felt boiling inside him. In a vain attempt to suppress it, he began to sing one of his favorite songs:

"I'm a little teapot short and stout…"

The anger only rose.

"Tip me over and I'll smash up EVERYTHING!"

Murray screamed aloud, his anger reaching an all-consuming level.

Then the humming increased again, this time to a fever pitch.

Murray Screamed again in pain and fury, and broke through the walls that were confining him, searching for a way for the pain and anger to stop.

He spotted a small blue figure that looked vaguely familiar. Wait a minute, Murray thought…maybe that's the guy who did this to me! He charged at the blue figure, smashing everything in his path to get at him, but the figure was fast, and was able to duck behind things every time Murray tried to run him down.

Strangely, the humming seemed to decrease every time Murray smashed something on his way to the blue figure. Finally, it stopped, and the pea-soup fog that covered his mind was lifted.

"Uh…my head". he muttered, shaking whatever remained of the fog from his mind. "Who…what…where?" His vision finally cleared to reveal Sly and Bentley standing in front of him. It all came rushing back…Sly…Bentley…Clockwerk…The van….India…the Heart…Rajan…Neyla…the Contessa…and Sly coming to tell him they were breaking him and Carmelita out of jail. Murray smiled, tears in his eyes. "Is this heaven?"

"Sorry pal," Sly said with a trademark grin. "You're no angel."

"Awww, you guys!" Murray laughed, lifting them in a bonecrushing hug.

"Murray…Murray…breathing is good!" Bentley chocked out. The Hippo let them go. "Okay, now take a deep breath, and try to center your thoughts."

"Okay…" Murray proceeded to take three very, very deep breaths. "I'm okay. It was scary in there for a second. But I got somethin' for ya!" He pulled out the Clockwerk part he had taken off Rajan from under his shirt.

"No way!" Sly exclaimed with a huge smile

"Way! I managed to save this part of the Clockwerk heart. I'll tell ya, it was really hard to hide it from the Contes-The Contessa!"

Sly and Bentley turned to observe the Spider herself scuttling away as fast as her legs could carry her, the clacking sound of her exoskeleton alerting Murray to her presence.

"She's getting away!"

With one giant heave, Murray pushed up the lever holding the door in place and rushed out after the woman who had tortured him. Bentley ran to catch up to him as Sly called after them.

"Don't let her get away, I'll go get Carmelita! We'll meet back up at the safehouse!"

Sly rushed through the solitary confinement cells, hoping that Carmelita had not been affected by her food the way Murray had. She was strong, he thought, the Contessa wouldn't risk trying to break her. Not yet.

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Carmelita lay on her cot, Shock pistol grasped tightly, alert and ready for anything. Nothing, at this point in the night, could phase her. If Muggshot had strolled into her cell, stripped off his clothes and done a pole dance to "These Boots Were Made For Walking" She wouldn't have blinked. She probably would have vomited, but she wouldn't have blinked.

The hour Sly had given her before her "rescue" was almost up. She didn't have a watch, but years on stakeouts had attuned her to the passing of time, and by her reckoning, it had been nearly forty-five minutes since Sly's smooth baritone had stopped crackling over the COMlink and she had taken a leap off the deep end.

What the hell was she thinking? It wasn't just a matter of teaming up with Sly for mutual interests. As long as the truce was purely temporary, as it had been in the past, she knew she could always bring him in later. But Sly had all but given himself up to ensure her cooperation. And that was more than a surprise; it was a shock. Why in the name of all things holy would he do a crazy thing like that? And why was she so affected by it?

Carmelita Fox, for what may have been the first time in her life, was unsure.

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Sly, throwing stealth to the four winds, skidded to a stop outside Carmelita's cell door, giving the guard posted outside a sharp rap on the head. The unfortunate vulture sank to the ground like a bag of potatoes. He'd wake up the next morning with a hell of a concussion, but Sly had other problems: The guard didn't have a key, and the door's lock was unpickable from the outside. He activated his intercom.

"Carmelita, do you read me?"

It took a moment for her to respond, and was that a sigh he heard

"Loud and Clear, Ringtail."

"I need you to pick the lock on your door."

"I don't know how to pick a lock!", Carmelita spluttered, "I'm a police officer!"

It was unbelievable. All this planning foiled by a locked door and an uncharacteristically unprepared Sly. They sat there, on opposite sides of the door, thinking and hoping another guard wouldn't come along.

"Well, Maybe I can get Murray to break down the door," pondered Sly.

"That would take to long. Hold on, I got it. Don't know why I didn't think of this before."

_**BZZZZ—AAAAAAAAPP.**_

The door latterly flew off its hinges with the force of the shock pistol's blast, hurtling down the corridor with surprising force and slamming into another unsuspecticing guard.

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it Carmelita?"

Carmelita stepped out, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting that she had not had in her cell, and Sly realized, with a gulp and a sped-up heartbeat that even dirty, unkempt and furious, Carmelita was still strikingly beautiful

As she turned to face him, Sly saw, rather than the murderous glance he expected, a _smile_. An honest to god smile. Could she really be happy to see him.

The smile widened a little, and her eyes narrowed to a sly, come-hither stare. Sly's heart pounded like a jackhammer. She moved closer to him, her face getting nearer, nearer, nearer…

And gave him a slap what would floor a concrete elephant.

"There," she said, ears flat against her head in annoyance as she shook the pain out of her hand. "That was for getting me into this damned mess in the first place. Now let's go."

Sly got up, dusted himself and followed her out the door. He should have been worrying what he had gotten himself into, but, he reflected, the chance to get near to her had been just to good to pass up. So what if his efforts had earned him a red cheek? She'd soon come to tolerate his presence, maybe even enjoy it.

Sly Cooper Smiled. "This," he thought, "is going to be fun."

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**Next time on "UNLIKELY":**

**A terse Car ride, a problematic briefing, and a sudden stop.**

**Again, I am so, so, so, sorry this took so long. I'll try to get this up to a regular updating scheduale, but no promises. I really have no idea where this is heading, and we'll just have to see. **

**Reviewers get, for the long wait, extra hot vanilla flavored bagels! With Lox!**

**The White Mask. **


	8. Goodbye

Hi Everyone. Long time no see.

So it's been about two or three years since the last chapter of _A Decidedly Unlikely Allience_ was posted. I started writing it with the story basically planned out, but as I got further along, I realized nothing was working the way I wanted it to. Writer's block struck, so I took a break. The break turned into a hiatus, the hiatus turned into a season off, and then…well, here we are, two and a half years later.

So it should come as no surprise when I say that I can't bring myself to complete this story. I'm in my third year of college now, and beginning it again, however much I want to, would be pretty counter-productive. I doubt I'd be able to get the spirit of the piece back, anyway; my style has changed too much.

That being said, I didn't want to leave you on such an obvious cliffhanger, so I thought I'd do my best to recap my plans for the story in this chapter. Who knows, maybe one day when I have more time, I'll come back and revist the whole mess, but until then, here's:

_**WHAT WAS INTENDED TO HAPPEN!!!!!!! **_(Gongs, trumpets, heavy reverb):

After the prison break, Carmelita was going to cause plenty of tension in the gang. Murray was going to adjust to her presence fairly quickly, but Bentley would have continued to distrust her for a few chapters until he discovered that he shared a love of chess with the Inspector, and Sly would have simply continued badgering and flirting with her. They would have quickly gone on to the Contessa's castle in Prague, where the fifth level of the game would have played out basically as we know it too, with a few exceptions: First, since rescuing Carmelita would not have been an issue, the only objective would have been to retrieve the Clockwerk eyes and make sure the Contessa gets her due. Second, there would have been a humorous scene where Carmelita discovers the adrenaline rush that comes with breaking and entering

Third and most importantly, Carmelita would have had a chance to secretly meet up with her Captain, Barkley, who would have sadly informed that Neela had been able to twist her prison break-out into concreate proof that she was working with Cooper, and that her career at Interpol was finished under any circumstances. This would have caused Carmelita great distress and led to a confrontation with Sly about his motives of rescuing her. This would have taken place on the long journey to Canada, which was going to be via plane, then ship. Onboard the ship, the two would have eventually hashed their differences, delved deeper into their similar backgrounds (9th Generation Cop and 42nd generation thief) and why exactly they do what they do. It is revealed that while Sly likes the high-wire and the fun of it, he wouldn't mind hanging up his cane, and that Carmelita is a cop primarily because it was expected of her. THAT conversation would have lead to a romantic night, which Carmelita asks Sly to forget the next morning. She reminds him that her only chance of regaining her badge would be to turn him in, so they are at a really terrible conflict of intrest by this point.

I hadn't mapped out what they actually would have done in Canada very closely. I imagined it would have followed the basic premise of the game with one addition: Carmelita and Neela would have had a big confrontation scene on top of one of Bison's trains, in which Neela confesses her scheme, taunts the fallen Inspector and attempts to make her jealous once she sees that Carmelita and Sly have progressed from their stalemate (as such). The fight would have ended with Carmelita booting Neela off the top of train into the freezing water below.

The assult on Arpeggio's blimp and the final showdown with Clockla would have been VERY different from the game since I couldn't have had Carmelita fly in to the rescue with that helicopter. The specifics escape me, but I know the general plan was to prevent Neela from ever becoming Clockla in the first place, stopped by a well-timed blast from Carmelita's shock pistol. Arpeggio would have taken his "rightful" position inside the bird, and Sly would have dealt with him using Arpeggio's emergency getaway vehicle, a biplane rather than a helicopter. Neela and Carmelita would have had one final fight that would have ended with the tigress hanging off of the nearly-destroyed blimp by her claws and Carmelita attempting to haul her back to safety so she could arrest her. Neela would have then committed suicide and thrown herself into the wild blue yonder, unwilling to admit defeat.

The defeat of Clockwerk II (Arpeggio) would have still left Bentley in need of a wheelchair, and the hate chip would have still been destroyed by Carmelita. The final scenes I had mapped out in detail:

As soon as Clockwerk II is destroyed, Carmelita pulls her gun on Sly, ready to take him in as their deal stipulated. But she can't bring herself to do it. She lowers her gun and tells Sly to get Bentley to the hospital while she deals with Interpol. She kisses him goodbye, and the gang flees.

A confrontation with Chief Barkely and his superiors follows. Without the captured master thief, it doesn't go nearly as smoothly as it does in the game. Barkley asks Carmelita, who is like a daughter to him, to turn herself in, but when Carmelita discovers that even after the revelation of Neela's treachery has reached them, her bosses are still intent on booting her off the force as part of a cover-up. She throws a smoke bomb given to her by Sly and runs, leaving behind her badge and gun.

She is on the run for two days, using tips she's picked up from Sly to stay out of sight, before she tracks down Sly on a rooftop outside her old office: the rooftop where the first game starts. She points out, listing all the international laws she has broken in the past month while on the run with him, that since he made her a criminal, however inadvertently, the least he can do is teach her how not to get caught. With Bentley and Murray chiming in on com-link voicing their approval, Sly offers her the permanent position as the Cooper Gang's newest member. She accepts willingly. They continue to banter when suddenly Sly throws caution to the wind and tells her he loves her, which she reciprocates. The story ends with them in a mind-boggling cinch, and Bentley, with respect to decorum, shutting off the com-link equipment back at the safehouse.

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So that, I hope, give you an idea of what you've missed out on by me being too lazy to write several years ago. I am sorry. Maybe, one day, I can take up pen again and rewrite the whole thing. I'd certainly like to. But not any time soon. In any case, please accept my apologies. Frankly, if it wasn't for so many people adding this to their favorites list, I wouldn't have even bothered to write this little note, and for that, I thank you all.

If any enterprising soul wants to use the finished chapters of _Alliance_ and this outline for a basis of their own AU fic, I'd be more than happy for them to do so. I'll even serve as Beta Reader.

See you all next time,

The White Mask

PS. Don't feel too sorry for the poor guard who gets knocked out by Sly in Chapter 3. If I recall, I was going to reveal that he ended up winning a Croatian Lottery and retiring to an Island on the French Rivera.


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